


come back to me

by tardisthetrain



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt, Hurt & Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Pre-Season 6, Reference to pregnancy, Seizures, absence seizure, and im still ANGRY about the fucKING ENDING OF SEASON 5, between seasons 5 and 6, canon-compliant character death, i'm Still Bitter about not seeing More of Fitz's brain trauma, s5e14: The Devil Complex - divergent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-12 05:02:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20988488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisthetrain/pseuds/tardisthetrain
Summary: she's begged and cried and pleaded with the universe to bring fitz back to her, and until recently, he always has. now, she's started to believe that the cosmos really does want to keep them apart; that this time, fitz won't ever come back.or,nine times jemma simmons has asked the universe to bring fitz back to her, the eight times he does, and the one time he doesn't.





	1. day three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'no one is going to just give up on him. but in the course of four hours, he’s almost slipped away just as many times, and he’s barely holding on.'
> 
> after three days in a coma, a decision about fitz has to be made.

i.

it's too quiet. it's too loud. the room is too dark and too bright and he's too _still_. it's been three days, and there hasn't been any change. three days ago, he gave her the last breath of oxygen and told her that he loved her, and the moment just keeps replaying _over_ and _over_ again in her mind.

trembling hands force her to take the makeshift breathing apparatus, '_yeah, and you're more than that, jemma._' and from where she stands, with her back against the wall of the med pod, she can see just how _scared_ he's trying not to be. his lips wobble as he tries to _smile_ at her. he turns _away_ and her hand falls from where it’s gripping his shoulder. his hand _SLAMS_ down on the defibrillator and then --

there's_ too much_ water. she holds the oxygen mask against her mouth and tries not to _sob_. he's thrown back by the _rush_ of the ocean, his head slamming into the shelf behind him. it's that moment that keeps _haunting_ her, seeing him go _backwards_ and sink limply down as the water comes up too _fast_. she already knows the math, knows that by her pulling him along, she's only going to slow herself down, lessen their chances, but she can't leave him behind, not after everything they've been through.

she swims and it's a blur. her hand makes a fist around the fabric of his shirt, and with every inch she swims, he feels heavier, feels like _deadweight_. she can't leave him behind. she can't. she breaks the surface and his head keeps falling to the side, dipping under the water despite every desperate attempt to keep him above it, to keep him from sinking. she wraps her arm under his, her palm against his chest and she can't feel a _heartbeat_. she can't feel his _heart_ beating and she can't hear him _breathing_. 

at first, she doesn't even notice the sound of the helicopter, doesn't notice how close it's getting. she doesn't even see fury until his hand is reaching out for her. everything after that is too fuzzy to remember.

'_his heart's still beating, just barely._'

just barely... just barely...

it's been three days and his heart is still _barely_ beating. a machine is breathing for him, keeping him alive. _just barely_. his arm is in a cast, _a machine is breathing for him_, and there are thick _bandages_ covering the left side of his face, _bruises_ starting to form. the _cut_ on his cheek has been stitched up, _a machine is breathing for him. _he doesn’t look like himself, like the _fitz_ she knows. like the fitz she _loves_.

_‘that’s my fault_,’ she thinks, when the medics talk to her and the rest of the team about _brain damage_, about how _long_ he was _without_ oxygen.

since they got to the medical facility, _three days ago_, she’s stood just a few feet away as medics _surround_ him, watched him _seize_ and _convulse_ and the _worst_ yet is when she’s with _skye_, when she convinces her to _walk away_ for just a _moment_, to _clear_ her head, to _eat_, to _shower_. the hacker keeps her arm around _jemma’s_ waist and tells her that _fitz_ will wake up _soon_, and things will go _back_ to _normal_, that she needs to take _care_ of herself too.

for a _moment_, she believes her, that things will be _okay_. and they _walk away_. and hours later, they turn the corner_ back _towards the _icu_, and they’re both _frozen_. there’s doctors and nurses _running_ into his room, and the world _drops_ from under jemma’s feet when she _hears_ it, the _sound_ that the _heart monitor_ is making, the _constant_ tone.

she doesn’t _remember_ fighting with _skye_, doesn’t remember _crying_ and _yelling_ and _hitting_ and saying she shouldn’t have told her to _walk away_ from him, because if she was still sitting by his side, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. she doesn’t remember _coulson_ coming over, or _trip_ or _may_, doesn’t _remember_ may grabbing her wrists, telling her to _stop_, to take a _breath,_ doesn’t remember them all sitting in the _waiting room_ with her.

it’s _difficult_ to hear the words when the medics come to talk to them all. someone says something about _life support_, about whether or not they want to _keep_ fitz on it. the decision is _unanimous_, instantaneous. no one is going to just _give up_ on him. but in the course of _four hours_, he’s almost _slipped away_ just as many times, and he’s _barely_ holding on.

_brain damage _is unavoidable, they tell her. and the _chances_ of him _waking up_ at all are _slim_.

_jemma_ can’t stay in the waiting room, can’t _listen_ when the medic talks about _end-of-life-care_. may is the one that says it first, tells the medic to _shut the hell up_, to figure _something_ out. the team doesn’t _care_ about the odds, about _chances_. they’re not giving up. coulson tries _again_ and _again_ to contact fury. _skye_ offers to give _blood_, says something about the _GH-325_, says something about it _maybe_ helping, but jemma doesn't want to _hear_ about the maybes. 

she holds his hand tightly in her own when she’s _allowed_ back in his room, her thumb brushing over his knuckles, but he doesn't move, doesn't squeeze her hand when she squeezes his. every so often, his fingers _twitch_, and the beeping of the heart monitor changes, and she _hopes_ \-- she _HOPES_ \-- that maybe he's waking up, that _maybe_ the medics are _wrong_, that he’ll be okay. but his eyes stay closed, and he stays _still_, too pale and too cold. too quiet.

the team keeps coming by, keeps offering to sit with him, but she won't let herself leave. she has to stay, can't leave his side, not since hearing his _heart_ stop beating. she can't risk it. skye comes to sit _with_ her, brings her tea that she doesn't drink. may asks her if there's anything she needs. she needs _fitz_, but she doesn't say anything.

she needs _fitz_ to wake up so she can tell him that she _loves_ him, too. she needs him to wake up so she can hold him close and never let him go again. but he won't _wake up_.

she squeezes his hand -- he doesn't squeeze back -- and she whispers, '_come back to me_.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for julia -- the simmons to my fitz.


	2. morning lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'today, this time, it’s exactly a month, exactly thirty days since he’s been transferred back to the base, almost exactly four months since he opened his eyes again. progress is progress, she reminds herself, but he still hasn’t made much.'
> 
> fitz is home, where he belongs, but he's not the same as he once was. he never will be.

ii.

_mornings_ always seem to be the _toughest_ for him. she comes in to help him every day at the exact same time, nudges open the door to his bunk, and most of the time he turns, tries to roll over onto his side, to go back to sleep and ignore her. sometimes he can manage it. sometimes he can't. his mobility is on the mend, she notes, whenever she sees him grab at his pillow with his left hand, when she sees him maneuver himself so he's on his left shoulder, his back to the door, to her. it hurts, seeing him distance himself, but he's making improvements. she has to _remind_ herself of that.

the fitz that she gets in the mornings is a lottery. some days are better than others. some nights, he's able to sleep, so he's in a better mood when she wakes him up, _reminds_ him that he needs to take his _medication_. his speech is still an uphill battle, and he can't manage more than a few sounds , can't manage proper words just yet. his good moods means he _hums_, just loud enough for her to be able to hear with his face buried in his pillows.

sometimes he can manage to start saying the names of their _friends_. he hisses, and it means he’s looking for skye. whenever he starts asking for coulson, it sounds more like he’s trying to clear his throat, struggling over the sound. a lot of the names are still too difficult, so he signs, makes little _gestures_ to indicate who he’s looking for.

( _hunter_, he makes the sign for ‘h’, taps his fingers against his mouth. _hunter talks too much_.

he tilts his hand and signs ‘m’, _mack_, like he’s turning a wrench. _mack’s a mechanic_.

the sign he makes for _may_ is like he’s flying a plane, the letter ‘m’ made with his trembling fist. )

on better days, he manages to choke out the beginnings of her name, but it's never more than, '_je_...' before he stops trying.

most nights, he doesn't sleep. most nights, he stays awake, his head _aching_, his hands pressed hard against his eyes until he sees _stars_. the migraines are too frequent, the meds don't help enough. the seizures drain him, make him too _tired_ to function, too tired to _sleep_.

today, this time, it’s _exactly_ a month, exactly thirty days since he’s been transferred back to the base, almost exactly _four_ _months_ since he opened his eyes again. progress is progress, she reminds herself, but he still hasn’t made much.

‘_fitz_?’ she asks, and he doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t turn away from her. she sits on the edge of his bed, reaches to rest a hand on his _shoulder_, and still, he doesn’t _move_. ‘fitz, can you _hear_ me?”

this isn’t the _first_ time she’s found him _trapped_, frozen from a _nightmare_, from a _memory_, but this time seems _DIFFERENT_. he’s _awake_, this time. blue eyes keep staring forwards, _blankly,_ and his hand _trembles_. he _whimpers_, and she _understands_.

she tugs his _hand_, the one that’s stretched out slightly, and she laces their fingers together, giving it a _squeeze_, her other hand still on his shoulder. ‘you’re okay,’ she murmurs, fighting back tears as the absence seizure persists. he makes a tiny gasping noise, and his hand twitches again, but he doesn’t do anything else to respond.

‘i’m _here_,’ she tells him, unsure if he can even _hear_ her, but she _hopes_ he can. ‘you’re okay, fitz, i’m here. i’m _right_ here.’ 

he _gasps_ again, shudders against her touch, and he _whimpers_ like a wounded animal. she keeps murmuring, keeps holding his hand, like a pulse, a rhythm. ‘_it’s okay_,’ she says, and squeezes his hand, trying to get his attention, trying to _pull_ him out of this absence.

it’s been three minutes now, and god knows how long the seizures have been happening _before_ she came to wake him. _he’s breathing_, she reminds herself. this isn’t as bad as it could be. he’s not _convulsing_, he’s _breathing_, it’s _fine_. he’s _fine_, he’ll be okay, in the end. he’ll be the same old fitz and he’ll smile and say something _ridiculous_ about monkeys or something and they’ll be just the _same_ as they used to be. they’ll be _fitzsimmons_, the way they _should_ be. it won’t be like this forever, she just has to be _patient_.

he _shudders_ again, _wheezes_ in a breath that hardly reaches his lungs, and her heart breaks just a little more. she squeezes his hand and tries to fight back tears when he only twitches in response.

‘oh, fitz… _come back to me_… _come back to me_…’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to julia -- from one lizard to another.


	3. 3,033 hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'and she’s been here, on this hell planet for too long. 3,033 hours and she’s sick of it. sick of it. she’s sick of the moons and of the dirt and the darkness. but still, she sits on a little hill and the screen of her phone illuminates her face, the voices of her friends fill in the windy silence around her.'
> 
> there's a way that jemma and will can get home, but doing so means she needs to say goodbye to fitz.

iii.

there’s no sun. there’s _never_ a sun and it’s starting to drive her _mad_. there’s a pile of solar panels as high as her waist in will’s little bunker, and _none_ of them _work_ because there’s _no sun_. two moons, _no sun_. 

‘_if we use up your battery and this doesn’t work… that’s the end of fitz. and all your friends._’

she doesn’t want to let that go, but they need to get _home_. she needs to see the _sun_, see fitz _properly_, and not just in a photograph on her phone. she wants to go _home_, to the little _base_ and back to her _lab_, where things make _sense_ and there’s not two moons in the sky, but just one. she wants to introduce _will_ to all of her _friends_ properly, not just point them out in the videos she has saved, the _moments_ she has _frozen_ with her.

( will _points_ to the little screen, points at skye. ‘_who’s that_?’

and jemma _smiles_. it’s not the _same_ video, not the one where the _team_ is wishing her a happy birthday. this one is just _skye _and fitz, sitting in the little containment room on the _BUS_, absolutely _livid_ over the fact that she’s just _lost_ a game of battleship to him. 

‘_that’s skye_,’ jemma says. ‘_she was just grumpy that she lost to fitz. she had to be in quarantine for while. well, not necessarily quarantine, she just sort of… isolated herself for a bit from the rest of us. but her and fitz got close after i had to… spend a bit of time away, so if i couldn’t find him, he would usually be with her. and i found them arguing about battleship once and i just…’_

there’s a _look_ in her eye, and she _knows_ it’s there. she _knows_ that will can see it, too. she carries on.

‘_i just wanted to keep that moment_.’

he nods, doesn’t _say _anything else. in a different _video_, on a different _night_, will sneaks up on her when she thinks he’s asleep. it’s the video she only watches when will _isn’t _around, doesn’t want to have to _explain_, just one she can _focus_ on.

but _will_ isn’t asleep, and he’s _quiet_ at first, watching the video over her shoulder.

‘_what’s going on_?’ he asks her.

she jumps, and wants to put her phone away, but she doesn’t. she _knows_ that will is asking what’s going on with _her_, why she isn’t _sleeping_, but that’s not the question she answers. she looks back at her phone, at the_ video_.

fitz is sitting in a hospital bed, mouth moving like he’s _talking_ but he doesn’t make a _sound_. his hand _twitches_, and he lifts his head, looks at the camera and makes a _whining_ noise. ‘_no, go on_,’ jemma says, _behind_ _the_ _camera_ in the video. ‘_it’s just so we can look back on it, fitz. we can look back and see how much progress you’ve made_.’

on her phone screen, fitz says something that doesn’t _quite_ make sense, it’s a _slur_ of utter _nonsense_. he _shakes_ his head, takes a _breath_ — will notes that there’s an _oxygen cannula_ against his nose, but he doesn’t _ask_ about it, not yet. he just _watches_ over jemma’s shoulder as the video plays on, and _fitz_ starts to _speak_.

‘_je… jeem…_’ he’s so _clearly_ struggling with the words, and his voice breaks. _frustration_ flashes through his eyes, and his right hand curls into a _fist_ before he keeps going. ‘_je-je… jeh… jem… jemma_.’

it’s the _first_ time since _waking up_ that he’s said a _full word_, said her _name_. and jemma can’t help but _smile_ when she watches the video, no matter how many times she’s _watched_ it. in the _months_ since that _video_ was taken, his _speech_ would improve and _regress_ and _improve_ again, but he said her _name_ and she can’t help but _hold on_ to it.

‘_what happened to him_?’ will asks, and jemma shudders.

‘_he was… he was in a coma… he nearly died to… we were trapped and he nearly drowned. the incident dama… damaged his brain, and he couldn’t speak at first. that was… that was the first time he spoke properly._’ she smiles. ‘_the first time he said my name again, after_…’

will doesn’t _ask_ any more _questions_. she keeps _watching_ the video, every night before she falls _asleep_. )

and she’s been _here_, on this _hell planet_ for too long. _3,033 hours_ and she’s _sick_ of it. _sick_ of it. she’s sick of the _moons_ and of the _dirt_ and the _darkness_. but still, she _sits_ on a little hill and the _screen_ of her phone illuminates her face, the _voices_ of her _friends_ fill in the _windy silence_ around her.

_skye_ and _coulson_ and _may_ and _fitz_. fitz fitz fitz. they all wish her a _happy birthday_, and _fitz_ turns the camera on himself and _smiles_. jemma smiles too, and her _heart_ aches. she wants to go _home_. she wants to be back _with them_, with _him_. she wants to drink _tea_ in their _lab_ and laugh with him, to go and have that _dinner_ that they had planned on having before all of _this_. she wants to sit on the sofa in the lounge beside him, listen to _hunter_ and _bobbi_ argue, listen to their _team_ laugh, watch _skye_ and _mack_ grumble at each other while they play video games. she wants to go _home_.

with a _swipe_ of her finger, she moves to the _other video_, the one of just _fitz_.

she _leans_ back, lays down on the _hill_ and _listens_. she _listens_ to him _stumble_ over her name. - ‘_je-je… jeh… jem… jemma_.’ - and it takes all she has to not _cry_. she plays the video _again_. and _again_. she doesn’t want to _let go_ of this, let go of _him_ but she has to get _home_.

‘i have to _let go_, fitz,’ she says, and wipes at her eyes. ‘we have to _try_ and get _home_. i’ll see you _soon_, fitz. i-i... i love you, fitz. just…’ she holds herself together, just _barely_, her thumb holding down the _power_ button on her phone. in a _moment_, the screen goes _dark_, and fitz _disappears_.

she _regrets_ it immediately, and it pools in her heart, she wants to _take it back_.

‘_come back to me, fitz_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for julia, as always, my lizard in crime.
> 
> and for rin, for listening to me babble and helping me with all the sad ideas.


	4. can you keep me close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'fitz lowers his hand, and giyera steps back, keeps his eyes on the scientists. they don’t get peace, but they get a moment. and maybe that’s all they need. he rests his hands on his hips, and his left hand is just a trembling blur by his side.'
> 
> the only way to keep jemma safe is for fitz to risk his life, to risk it all. he does it without hesitation.

iv.

she _ignores_ most of the people there, the _soldiers_, the _hydra_ operatives. she just _watches_, and they move like _clockwork_, following orders. it’s chaos and all of the _data_ on the screens just keep pointing to _maveth_, pointing back to that _hell_. but now it’s _fitz_ going, not her.

_giyera_ stands too close to her, and he gives her this _sick_ look, like he _knows_ something she doesn’t. they can’t _trust _anything that they say. _malick_ says they won’t _hurt_ her, as long as fitz keeps up his end of the _deal_, and helps lead _ward_ and the other _hydra soldiers_ back from hell.

and _fitz_. fitz fitz fitz. oh, _fitz_. he keeps _pacing_, back and forth beside the little _ditch_ in the floor, where the _portal_ is going to open again, and there’s no promise he’ll come back through once he’s _gone_. she has to stand on the _other side_ of the room, near giyera as he talks to another technician, setting up more _equipment_, talking about monitoring the _travel_, about making sure _fitz_ doesn’t try to pull any _tricks_ once he’s out of sight. her stomach _twists_ in knots when she hears someone say that if _fitz_ comes back without _ward_, they’ll kill the engineer _on sight_.

she watches as he _paces_ again, knows the _method_ he’s using, trying to _calm_ himself. he takes fourteen steps, leans his _weight_ on his left foot, then _turns_, takes another _fourteen steps_ back and leans on his _right_ this time. she’s seen him do it at the academy, at sci-ops, on the bus, on the base. it’s a _constant_ motion, and she knows what it _means_.

he’s not _holding_ _together_ as well as he’s trying to _pretend_ that he is.

behind her back, she _shifts_ the _handcuffs_, tries to wriggle out, but it’s _useless_, they’re too _tight_. she can’t get out. but she’s had _enough_ of this, she needs to get to _fitz_, to beg him _not_ to do this, to hold him in her _arms_ but she _can’t_. 

giyera turns his _back_ on her for a _moment_, and she takes her chance. it’s at the same time as fitz _turns_ to start pacing in the other direction. she _rushes_ over to him, and he catches the movement in the corner of his eye, stands still.

but he looks _past_ her, and she _spins_ around when he holds out a hand.

‘_hey_!’ he snaps, pointing an accusatory finger at _giyera_, half a step taken towards her. ‘_you touch her, and the deal’s off_.’

fitz _lowers_ his hand, and giyera steps back, keeps his eyes on the scientists. they don’t get _peace_, but they get a _moment_. and maybe that’s all they need. he rests his hands on his hips, and his _left hand_ is just a _trembling blur_ by his side.

‘_fitz, you can’t do this_,’ she tells him, _desperate_ to bring some sense into his mind.

he looks away, down at his _feet_ and shakes his head. ‘_my mind’s made up, jemma_.’

‘_no_.’ it sounds too _harsh_ when she says it, so she shakes her head, changes _tactics_ to figure this out. ‘_we can’t let them bring that… thing back to this planet_.’

he’s not _pacing_, but he keeps _shifting_ his weight from one foot to the other. she watches him _clench_ his jaw, _bite_ down on his bottom lip, anything to _distract_ himself. he doesn’t _answer_ her. he _tilts_, turns slightly, keeps _shaking_ his head.

‘_fitz_,’ she tries again. she can’t _win_ here, she knows that. ‘_please just let them kill me_.’

and he _shakes_ his head so _quickly_ that she can see his vision _spin_. finally, he _looks_ up at her, and there are _tears_ brimming in his eyes. ‘_i can’t do that,_’ he tells her. ‘_i won’t_.’

he _shuffles_ closer so they’re standing _side by side_. fitzsimmons, the way they _should_ be, just for a _moment_. she takes a _breath_, looks away from him, and then back to him once he starts _speaking_ again, the words _trembling_ as they tumble from his lips.

‘_i lost you once_,’ he says, and he makes his _eyes_ look directly into hers.

he’s not _good_ at keeping eye contact, he _never_ has been. he would always _look away_ after a _second_, but not now. now he’s looking _directly_ at her, and she can see every fleck of _green_ in the blue hues, can see the _slight_ deviation in his _left eye_, can see how it _turns_ _inwards_ just slightly. this close, she can feel his _breath_ on her cheeks, can hear the _tears_ he’s trying to _fight back_.

she wants to _reach up_ and wipe them away, but she _can’t_. he _speaks_ again, _slowly_, his voice _breaking_ more and more with each _word_, and her _heart_ does too.

‘_i can’t lose you again. i’m just…_’ he shakes his head, looks back at his feet for a _second_ before, ‘_i’m not strong enough to live in a world that doesn’t have you in it._’

she can feel the _tears_ burning in the corners of her eyes, and it hurts. it _hurts_ to see _him_ crying and it _hurts_ knowing that he’s doing this for _her_, to keep _her_ safe, and to keep her _happy_, to get back _will_ and make everything okay_ again_ and it _hurts_. 

her lower lip _wobbles_, and she _has_ to look _away_, because if she looks at _him_, she’ll _break_, and she can’t do that here, not now. her _breaths_ are shaky and insufficient. she can’t look at _fitz_, so she forces herself to _focus_ on the little pieces of the _monolith_ sitting in the center of the room. she spent _six months_ on that _hell_ and now _fitz_ is going back there, _willingly_, to rescue _will_, to keep her _safe_, and it’s _too much_. it’s all just _too much_.

she’s _cracking_, and she _knows_ it, and she’s _sure_ that fitz knows it too. she _shudders_, turns back to him and with just one _look_, the facade she’s been _trying_ to hold up starts to _crumble_. she takes a _half-step_ closer to him, and _leans_ into his side, her head resting on his shoulder.

his reaction is _instantaneous_. he loops his _arm_ around her shoulders, pulls her in _close_.

‘_oh, come back to me_,’ she mumbles, the words _quiet_, muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

his hand cups the back of her _neck_, brings her as _close_ as possible while she _cries_. his stubble _scratches_ at her skin, and this close, she can _hear_ his heart _racing_ in his chest. his thumb brushes over the skin at the back of her ear, and he _tilts_ a little on his feet to _calm_ himself, to _calm_ her.

‘_come back to me_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you should know this by now.
> 
> for julia -- my simmons.


End file.
